Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 3, No. 4, September 1942

In our July issue we introduced a “department” which we entitled The League of Forgotten Men, the purpose of which is to bring back to you periodically a detective of fiction who has regrettably been forgotten, and whose exploits still make good, fruity reading... So here is Mr. Ezra Stackpole Butterworth, No. 2 in our gallery of old-time detectives, whose acquaintance was eagerly cultivated by fans of the year 1913, in a story we know you will enjoy as much as we did.

I

The contest over the will of Reuben N. Asher had been followed closely by the reading public for many days, until it had aroused more than state-wide interest. The general attention given the litigation resulted largely from the personnel of those concerned in the outcome.

The decedent died at the advanced age of eighty-seven, having drawn up his last will and testament about a year prior to his decease. He was a man of long and honorable life, ripe with wholesome activities and philanthropies, though he was now assailed as mentally incompetent.

Professor Roscoe Quell, a nephew and the contestant in the case, had won enviable recognition both at home and abroad by his scientific researches, and was the author of more than one authoritative text-book. He was a man in the prime of life and already had reaped substantial rewards from his scholarly endeavors.

But perhaps the most interesting character in the little drama was the proponent, Miss Alice Asher, a niece of the testator, who received the million-dollar estate under the terms of the will, the nephew being cut off for the reason that he possessed an ample fortune while his cousin was penniless. But if the niece was bankrupt in pocket unless she profited by the provisions of the will, she was most generously endowed with beauty and, so far as her personality during the contest could be gauged, with an extremely attractive and womanly nature. Up to the time of the testator’s death the relations between uncle and nephew had been most friendly, the latter often being a visitor at the Asher mansion.

Last, but possibly not least, in focusing the attention of the press was the fact that Walter Riggsley, celebrated in surrogate’s practice for successful assaults on wills where large estates were involved, appeared for Professor Quell, while the fair proponent was represented by that veteran of eccentric practice, Ezra Stackpole Butterworth, founder of the Bureau of Abnormal Litigation, whose advent in a case licensed the expectation that the ordinary routine of the law would be ignored. The appearance of Mr. Butterworth in any suit was sufficient to set the press-table to buzzing.

At the opening of the contest the Surrogate experienced a sensation of uneasiness, for he had been annoyed several times by the old lawyer, whose unexpected methods and shrewdness had more than once resulted in a reversal of the court’s ruling by a higher tribunal. But as the hearing progressed and Mr. Butterworth, now the champion of normality, was compelled to confine his efforts to normal lines of proof, the court relaxed in his forebodings and at the end of the second week was wearing his official black robe with complacency.

Immediately after the formal proof of the will was offered, Mr. Riggsley began his battering attacks upon the competency of the testator, calling witness after witness to testify to the decedent’s peculiar actions, and conducting himself so confidently that more than once Mr. Butterworth had warned his tall, angular assistant.

“Jethuel, our friend has something up his sleeve. Watch for it.”

As the testator’s roomy country mansion was somewhat isolated, the gist of the contestant’s proof was based on the evidence furnished by the domestics and a few of the more immediate neighbors. For two weeks men and women took the stand and swore to the old man’s unusual deportment, baldly declaring that his behavior in each sample of his alleged eccentricity had impressed the witness as being irrational. With forceful insistence and great skill Mr. Riggsley had piled up his accumulative proof until, from sheer weariness, the Surrogate burst forth,

“I do not think it is necessary to call more witnesses of this class at present, Mr. Riggsley. We are simply accumulating repetitions of what already has been received.”

Mr. Riggsley smiled exultingly in the direction of his client and rejoined,

“I consider the evidence is quite conclusive as it stands, but as I have but one more witness of this class, I desire to heap up the measure.”

“Very well; proceed,” consented the court.

“Miss Tubbs, take the stand, please,” said counsel.

Miss Tubbs, a short, heavy woman with a masculine face, slowly advanced to the witness chair and composed her features grimly. After saying that she had been the decedent’s housekeeper for two years and had observed his behavior daily, she said she had not noticed anything peculiar about his actions until some three months prior to his making his will. To be exact, it was on Christmas Eve her suspicions were first aroused that his mental faculties were failing him.

“Explain the circumstance,” gently prompted Mr. Riggsley, while Professor Quell fingered his short iron-gray beard eagerly and never shifted his gaze from the witness’s face.

“He appeared to be very much excited and told me to ring for the stableman,” said the witness.

“Were you present when the man answered the summons?” asked Mr. Riggsley, staring benignly at the ceiling.

The witness replied in the affirmative and repeated,

“Mr. Asher seemed much excited—”

“I allowed the witness’s first speculation as to the condition of the testator’s mind to pass without entering an objection,” drily broke in Mr. Butterworth. “And while I know her characterizations will have no weight with your honor, I suggest that she confine herself to what she saw and heard, and leave it for the court to supply the constructions.”

Being instructed accordingly, the witness sullenly resumed, “Mr. Asher told the stableman to hitch three horses tandem into the jaunting-car and drive over to the junction, some three miles, and get his nephew and a friend the Professor was bringing down for the week-end.”

Mr. Riggsley drew a deep breath of satisfaction and softly inquired,

“What was the weather at that time, Miss Tubbs?”

“It was snowing hard that day, with two feet of snow on the ground.”

“What did the stableman say or do?”

“Do you intend calling the stableman?” asked Mr. Butterworth.

“He is out of the State and can not be located,” explained counsel. “Go on, Miss Tubbs.”

“The stableman swore that master was crazy, and wound up by driving to the junction in a sleigh.”

“Whom did he bring back?”

“No one. He was mad clear through when he returned. He said no one was at the junction, and that master must have dreamed it all.”

“Please ask her if Professor Quell did not arrive the next morning,” obtruded Mr. Butterworth.

“Don’t worry; you shall have it all,” chuckled Mr. Riggsley.

The witness next said that the contestant did arrive Christmas morning in a hired rig, and that her employer was delighted to see him and that the two passed a happy day together, the nephew departing on the next day.

“What was the next incident about Mr. Asher that struck you as being peculiar?” urged Mr. Riggsley.

Darting a triumphant look at the old lawyer, whom she now considered her personal enemy, the witness related,

“Shortly after Professor Quell had left, I heard a booming sound in Mr. Asher’s room. I knocked on the door and asked what was the matter. He told me to enter. I found him fully dressed and seated by the table, holding on his knee a drum.”

“A bum?” exclaimed the court, suddenly popping into an upright posture.

“A drum, if it please your honor,” corrected Mr. Riggsley, bowing deeply.

The court frowned heavily as if the disclosure did not please him a bit, and motioned for the witness to proceed.

Much elated with the effect of her statement the housekeeper eagerly added,

“Before I could say anything, he gave the drum several loud taps and explained that was the signal I was to always answer. Then he called in other servants and instructed each as to what signals he or she was to heed.”

“Did he use the drum, as you’ve described, up to and after the time the will was drawn up?”

“He did,” replied the witness, whereat Mr. Riggsley announced he had no further questions.

Mr. Butterworth, after whispering briefly with his assistant, took up the cross-examination, first asking,

“For all you know to the contrary, witness, Professor Quell was at the junction the night your master sent a rig for him?”

“The man didn’t bring him back and said he wasn’t there,” stiffly answered the witness.

“But for all you know he might have been there that night?” persisted Mr. Butterworth.

“I would like to ask counsel what he means by this line of inquiry?” warmly demanded Mr. Riggsley. “His questions smack of the unwholesome and constitute a veiled attack on the integrity of my client.”

“I make no veiled attacks, sir!” hotly rejoined Mr. Butterworth. “But I openly aver that on the afternoon before Christmas Day Reuben Asher received a telephone communication from the junction, the speaker purporting to be his nephew and asking that the tandem rig, wheels and all, be sent, as a good joke on a friend who was visiting in this country for the first time.”

Pounding the table vehemently, Mr. Riggsley declared,

“This is an insult, your honor! I demand that counsel produce his witnesses to substantiate his statement, or else withdraw it.”

“Do you expect to offer proof in this connection?” severely inquired the court, upon whom the contestant’s grisly beard had made a favorable impression.

Mr. Butterworth sighed and said,

“The telephone operator who was on duty at the junction that day has disappeared, and I have been unable to locate him. He has vanished like the stableman.”

As he said the last he turned and smiled grimly into the red face of his adversary.

“Your honor, this — this is an infamous innuendo!” choked counsel. “He is intimating that I have spirited a witness away. I demand that he retract his words.”

“Surely I am not in fault for stating a simple fact,” softly said Mr. Butterworth. “The operator has disappeared; so has the stableman!”

“Gentlemen, we’ll pass on to the facts connected with this case,” uneasily warned the court.

Mr. Butterworth turned to the witness and gravely asked,

“Isn’t it a fact that on the day he sent the stableman to the junction he had a telephone conversation with someone? On your oath, yes or no.”

Before Mr. Riggsley could frame any objection, the witness wilted perceptibly and replied in the affirmative.

“And isn’t it a fact,” thundered the old lawyer, shaking an admonitory finger at the perturbed witness, “that you overheard his end of the conversation?”

“I didn’t!” loudly denied the witness.

“And didn’t he say he would send the car and three horses because he agreed it would be a good joke on the newcomer, leading him to believe that wheels were used the year round in the Asher neighborhood?”

“No, he didn’t!” warmly replied the witness.

“But how do you know he didn’t if you didn’t hear any of the conversation?” asked the old lawyer, dropping his voice to a gentle key.

“Well, because... because I don’t believe he did,” faltered the witness. “That’s better, although it’s immaterial,” smiled Mr. Butterworth. “Now for the drum. Don’t you know that Mr. Asher was passionately fond of music, that he played the snare-drum in his younger days, and even in after years that he spent much time rehearsing with the village band?”

“I knew he was fond of music,” admitted the witness after some hesitation.

“And don’t you know that Professor Quell, his nephew, brought him the drum as a Christmas present and suggested to him that he use it in summoning the servants instead of ringing the bell?”

“Your honor,” broke in Mr. Riggsley in his most dramatic voice, “I resent this cowardly attack upon my client. Counsel practically charges him with plotting to gain possession of this property, whereas he appears here only to establish his rights against this young woman, who, tempted by the bait of gold—”

“We mask none of our charges, your honor!” exploded Mr. Butterworth. “We openly assert that Reuben N. Asher was surrounded by oddities and eccentricities by that person who hoped to profit by his seemingly irrational conduct and gain control of this estate! We insist that the testator never displayed the least trace of irrationality except after some visit from his loving nephew, and that his intellect was as clear as mine when he did those things which the servants and outsiders, not knowing what had prompted him, construed as symptoms of a failing mind.”

“This is strong language, gentlemen,” sternly cried the court, pounding his gavel loudly. “I insist that you abandon this unworthy exhibition of temper and proceed with the hearing.”

As the old lawyer took his seat, Mr. Riggsley, now angry in earnest, expressed a desire to put another question to the witness.

“Tell us about the letter, Miss Tubbs.”

“One day I found him in tears, holding a piece of paper in his hand. He said he had just got word from a hospital that his niece was there, seriously injured. I took the paper from his hand, and it was blank! There wasn’t a word on it. I showed it to him and he was greatly upset, but insisted he had just read it.”

“Would you like to question the witness further?” jeered Mr. Riggsley.

“No,” slowly replied Mr. Butterworth, “but I am very glad to receive the last bit of information. However, I suppose it would be useless to ask the witness if she believes that an expert chemist could prepare a paper, or an ink, so that a written communication would be but transient in its legibility if exposed to the light.”

“We rest our case, your honor,” said Mr. Riggsley.

“I ask for an adjournment until to-morrow, when I will call our principal witness, Dr. Elisha W. Pinkey, who is now out of town and will not return till to-night,” said Mr. Butterworth.

“Court will take a recess till to-morrow morning,” announced the Surrogate.

II

It was generally believed by those who had followed the evidence that the calling of Dr. Pinkey was the pivotal point in the case. Miss Asher would win or lose as the result of his testimony. Dr. Pinkey was celebrated the length of the land as an alienist, and his testimony had been determinative in many a similar contest. It was obvious that Mr. Butterworth would be unable to substantiate his charges that there had been a plot to surround the decedent with every semblance of mental weakness, because of the disappearance of two or more witnesses.

And while the old lawyer had cleverly combated the various points scored by his opponent, he had offered no corroboration of his suspicions. But if the alienist took the stand and came out flat-footed in favor of the proponent, the contestant would be hard-put to maintain any advantage accruing to him through the recitals of the domestics. For Dr. Pinkey was one whose word could not be impeached and whose opinion could not be purchased.

Ordinarily Mr. Butterworth and his taciturn assistant would have relied implicitly upon this witness and would have considered all that had gone before as so much skirmishing, if it had not been for the deportment of Mr. Riggsley at the opening of court in the morning. The contestant’s counsel moved to and fro inside the enclosure continuously, yet his whole bearing was one of exulting expectancy rather than of uneasiness. The founder of the Bureau read his mood in a glance, and nodded shortly when Jethuel whispered,

“Riggsley seems very confident, sir.”

After a moment’s meditation the old lawyer observed,

“He believes he’s fooled us in some manner, and yet he knows the strength of our witness. I wonder what he’s up to. I wonder!”

The Surrogate now entered the bench and after a brief conference with the clerk nodded to Mr. Butterworth to proceed.

“I am waiting for our witness to arrive, your honor. His office informed me he would be here promptly at ten.”

“Here he comes now,” hoarsely informed Jethuel in great relief.

Dr. Pinkey was a stout, choleric appearing person, whose incisive bearing bespoke a man who had his own way in the world. He knew he was the dread of lawyers appointed to cross-examine him. As a result of this realization, he entered the crowded court-room with a slight smile of cynicism on his strong face, and eagerly cast about to learn who was the opposing counsel.

With no delay Mr. Butterworth ushered his witness to the stand, where the Surrogate warmly greeted him. The court’s wealth of cordiality should have caused Mr. Riggsley to squirm uneasily, but the gentleman simply smiled in a good-natured manner and turned a whimsical countenance to his opponent. Professor Quell, from his obscure corner, leaned forward with glistening eyes, as if waiting for something sensational to happen. The press-table rapidly resharpened pencils and motioned for their messenger-boys to stand ready for the first batch of copy.

Dr. Pinkey answered the preliminary questions in short, sharp barks, as if annoyed at queries concerning his name, age, occupation, and was quite haughty as he qualified as an expert. Then with the court beaming upon him, with the spectators staring at him in mingled awe and admiration, he told in jerky sentences how he called on Mr. Asher the day before the will was drawn up. As the servants had been given a holiday to spend in merry-making at certain maple-sugar camps on the estate, the witness arrived early in the morning and took the testator for a long drive, remaining out all day with the exception of the lunch hour spent at the Country Club.

From his professional observations on that day he was able to pronounce the decedent absolutely qualified to draw up his will, or transact any business, being complete master of his faculties.

“Would it have been possible for him to have undergone a change in his mentality overnight, serious enough to have incapacitated him for drawing up his will?” asked Mr. Butterworth, trailing one eye to scan the cheerful Mr. Riggsley.

“No, sir,” boomed the witness; “not unless he suffered from a shock. I will add that I remained overnight at his home, and found him perfectly rational in the morning. I saw him two days later, and he was entirely compos mentis.”

The press-table wrote frantically, and Mr. Butterworth said,

“I believe that is all I care to ask.”

As Mr. Riggsley rose, notebook in hand, the witness stiffened and smiled grimly. He was used to such encounters and hugely enjoyed them. He believed that counsel, following the usual mode of procedure, had been cramming up for the cross-examination under the tutelage of some other alienists. Lawyers had essayed to trip him at his own game before, and he hungered for the fray.

“Returning to the day when you brought Mr. Asher home from his delightful sleigh-ride,” began Mr. Riggsley, “did you go to bed early, or did you remain up several hours after Mr. Asher had retired?”

The witness gave the slightest perceptible start, and after a moment’s hesitation coldly answered,

“I remained in the smoking-room several hours after my host had retired.”

“The windows of that room look out on a field, do they not?” next asked counsel.

“The witness has not qualified as an architectural expert,” reminded Mr. Butterworth, studying his rival keenly.

“I do not see the relevancy, but the witness may answer if he knows,” directed the puzzled court.

“They do,” answered the witness, his defiant eyes becoming worried.

“And as you smoked you stood at the window and gazed out on the landscape, did you not?” persisted counsel.

“Dr. Pinkey was called here as an alienist,” gravely rebuked Mr. Butterworth.

“What do you expect to show?” curiously asked the court.

“I expect to establish the fact that this witness is not competent to give expert testimony as to the mental condition of Reuben N. Asher!” boldly informed Mr. Riggsley.

Had the tower on the city hall walked across the square and invited the statue of justice over the front entrance of the courthouse to go a-strolling, the court and others could not have been more astounded. Mr. Butterworth was the first to recover from the attack and, as there was but one course for him to pursue, he blandly said:

“I am keenly desirous to have my friend attempt to establish his fact. I shall be greatly interested in studying his mode of procedure.”

But despite the assurance expressed in this mocking challenge, the old lawyer was rather disturbed. For some inexplicable reason Dr. Pinkey was shrinking from the ordeal.

“Then, with the court’s permission, I will proceed to gratify my friend,” observed counsel. In a low, even voice he next asked, “Doctor, I want you to tell me what you saw when you gazed from the window. Anything that impressed you as being unusual, extraordinary?”

The witness licked his dry lips for a few moments while the court-room strained in amazed attention, and in a husky voice finally replied,

“I thought I saw an ostrich lying on the snow.”

The Surrogate slumped back in his chair and plucked vaguely at the hem of his gown. At last he managed to direct,

“Stenographer, read the answer.”

“ ‘I thought I saw an ostrich lying on the snow,’ ” complied the stenographer.

“Lord bless me!” gasped the dazed court.

“An ostrich?” murmured Mr. Riggsley, as calmly as if it were the most natural object in the world to behold in a winter landscape. “What else, pray?”

“I saw the figure of a man, with arms outstretched,” mumbled the witness, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. “Near him was a large heart — that is, something of the shape of a heart, such as we see on valentines.”

“Do I understand the witness to say he saw a valentine?” exclaimed the bewildered court.

After counsel and the stenographer had put his honor right, the former coaxed,

“And what else did you see?”

The witness shuddered and with great difficulty confessed,

“I next noticed the word ‘Insane’, printed in tall letters across the snow.”

The gaze of the court became glassy as it rested on the witness. Only Mr. Riggsley and Mr. Butterworth seemed entirely composed. The former again prompted,

“And what did you do?”

“I was much upset,” muttered the witness. “I procured a lantern from the stable and went out to investigate.”

“Tell us all about it,” urged Mr. Riggsley. “What did you find?”

“Nothing,” groaned the witness. “The snow was unbroken, except for a few tracks. There was nothing on the snow.” Without waiting to be questioned he rapidly stated that he returned to the house and on entering the servants’ door met Professor Quell, who had arrived at the mansion after Mr. Asher left the house on his sleigh-ride. Professor Quell asked what had taken him abroad at such an hour, and remarked on his show of agitation. “I asked the Professor to accompany me to the smoking-room, where I again saw the same objects on the snow. I called him to the window and requested him to tell me what he saw. He displayed much surprise and said he saw nothing but snow.”

“Isn’t it probable that the objects you believed you saw were the result of shadows?” hopefully inquired the court.

“There was no moon at that hour and there were no shadows,” wearily replied the witness.

“That’s all,” said Mr. Riggsley. “I now ask that the entire testimony of this witness be eliminated from the record, as by his own evidence he is incompetent to give expert testimony in this case.”

“Wait a bit,” mildly requested Mr. Butterworth. “I wish to ask the witness if he has any explanation for this experience.”

“I can only set it down to a phantasm, an optical illusion,” sadly confessed the witness. “I never experienced it before or since.”

“After being deceived by your visual sense, when your mind should have been tranquil and composed, do you mean to say you were not grossly deceived in your estimate of Mr. Asher’s mental condition?” demanded Mr. Riggsley.

“I must have been the victim of some passing mental disorder,” wildly cried the witness. “But I still insist that Mr. Asher was sane and competent to transact any business.”

“I insist that the testimony be allowed to stand, as it is a matter of record that a man may be deceived by his senses in one instance without his whole mentality being tainted,” earnestly argued Mr. Butterworth. “No two eyewitnesses can give a similar description of any street scene. Objectively we are constantly being tricked. Dr. Pinkey’s eyes deceived him for the moment, but his mind was as acute as ever and he instantly detected the trick, evidencing a higher degree of perception than the average man possesses.”

“Yet very few persons, at liberty, see ostriches and hearts and printed words on March snowbanks,” interrupted Mr. Riggsley curtly.

“Mr. Butterworth, this is a very serious matter,” sorrowfully observed the court. “Have you any witnesses to corroborate what this witness has told us concerning the mental condition of Mr. Asher?”

“I have not, your honor,” sorrowfully admitted Mr. Butterworth. “This evidence came as a great surprise to me, as I have not talked with the witness for several weeks. I simply knew he was a friend of Mr. Asher and had observed him closely.”

“Then I fear I must strike out the evidence as being untrustworthy,” regretted the court. “Ahem. Had he believed he had seen the figure of a man skulking about the premises, or a — a sled — something attuned to the lonely — huh — environment — huh — and the season of the year. But — huh — an ostrich!”

“I ask the court to adjourn the hearing one week, postponing any decision till the return day,” requested Mr. Butterworth. “It is possible that in the meanwhile counsel and I may reach some agreement, tending toward a composition of the entire matter, and making unnecessary the need of taking further evidence.”

“I shall be pleased to have the court convenience Brother Butterworth to that extent,” readily assented Mr. Riggsley, rubbing his hands joyfully as he read a complete surrender in the old lawyer’s petition.

As the veteran was gathering up his papers, Jethuel whispered,

“Do you suppose they’ll agree to a compromise, or will they demand their full half?”

“Hum!” grunted Mr. Butterworth, frowning heavily as he wrote on a desk pad. “On your way to the office stop at the reference library and get me Ganot’s ‘Elements de Physique,’ Atkinson’s translation. Also, all of Professor Quell’s works on chemistry which you can find.”

III

The ensuing week was a busy one for Mr. Butterworth, although so far as his anxious assistant could discover his activities consisted largely in trotting about on mysterious errands at unseasonable hours. Among other things he directed his servants to prepare a cozy dinner for a few of his friends, to be served at his country place. Jethuel could not recall another instance when the country place was thrown open in winter.

Miss Asher had come to the office once to discuss the advisability of taking the witness-stand, but the old lawyer did not inform his assistant what he had decided on this point. In fact, he did not mention the will except as he observed on the afternoon preceding the return day,

“His eyes registered falsely, he insists, but he rejected their testimony. If he is rational enough to detect a flaw in his visual sense, how can he be put down as being incompetent to give expert testimony?”

“Do you remember the case of Hiram Tanker’s third personality?” grimly reminded Jethuel. “Your stand in that litigation established a precedent that would now be cited against you. But why didn’t he inform us of his uncanny experience?”

“He was ashamed,” replied Mr. Butterworth. “He hoped he would not be questioned on that point. He had to tell the truth when questioned because he is an absolutely honest man, and because Roscoe Quell knew of his experience. Anyway, I’m glad there’s no bad blood between Professor Quell and me. We’re good friends now, thanks to the mediation of Riggsley.”

This information was far from soothing to Jethuel’s outraged mind, and he sullenly shifted the conversation by asking,

“Any orders about to-night’s dinner?”

“No orders, except be there at six-thirty sharp. It will be very informal. The Surrogate, Mr. Riggsley and Professor Quell will be among the guests. It will be a good time to patch up all our differences.”

Once alone, Jethuel growled,

“If the old chap thinks this little dinner will soften the demands of the opposition any he’s awfully mistaken. I wonder if he knows how Riggsley has publicly boasted his client will not accept less than half of the estate.”

Whatever may have been Mr. Butterworth’s motive in giving the dinner, his guests acknowledged it as being an amiable one by presenting themselves prompt to the minute, wreathed in smiles. The Surrogate was happy, as the invitation evidenced the old lawyer bore him no ill-will, although informed that to-morrow’s decision must go against him. Mr. Riggsley was in excellent spirits, as Mr. Butterworth had assured him he would seek no compromise, but would abide by the ruling of the court. Professor Quell was quite fascinated by his host’s cordiality, and it almost appeared as if the dinner were given in honor of the learned litigant.

In a lull in the conversation, after the soup, Mr. Butterworth directed a servant to run up the window-shades, whimsically remarking,

“By a coincidence this room faces toward the north, as does the smoking-room in the Asher mansion. It happens that the atmospheric and climatic conditions tonight approximate those of that other night a year ago. I wonder if Dr. Pinkey were here if he would see more visions in the snow.”

Professor Quell and his counsel laughed heartily at what appeared to be proof of Mr. Butterworth’s resignation to the inevitable, while the Surrogate smiled feebly, undecided whether to maintain his official role, or compromise on a semi-serious demeanor. The other guests whispered their admiration of the old lawyer’s graceful surrender.

As the conversation lapsed again, Mr. Butterworth abruptly addressed Professor Quell,

“By the way, Professor, would you be kind enough to inform me to how many causes the various phenomena of phosphorescence may be referred?”

Professor Quell, suspending his fork in mid-air, opened his eyes in surprise and then narrowed them and intently gazed at the speaker, and replied,

“Five.”

“That’s what I had in mind,” murmured Mr. Butterworth. “You class them as what, if you’ll good-naturedly condescend to teach me?”

“I class them as Ganot does,” quietly returned the professor. “There is spontaneous phosphorescence, such as in certain vegetables and animals. Phosphorescence by elevation of temperature, as best observed in species of diamonds, and particularly in chlorophane, a variety of fluorspar, which, when heated to three or four hundred degrees, suddenly becomes luminous, emitting a greenish-blue light.”

“Thank you, thank you,” cried Mr. Butterworth, while the other guests politely counterfeited an interest. “You have refreshed my recollection greatly. The next in order is phosphorescence by mechanical effects, such as by friction, percussion and cleavage, as seen when two quartz crystals are rubbed together in the darkness, or when a lump of sugar is broken. My faith, it seems only yesterday I was deep in my books! Let’s see, phosphorescence by electricity is the fourth cause, such as results from the friction of mercury against the glass in a barometric tube. By George, Surrogate, I’ll wager you can’t recall so much of your chemistry, eh?”

“No, no; hardly,” laughed the Surrogate. “But come, you’re a boaster. You haven’t finished yet. The professor said five causes. Name the fifth, huh.”

Mr. Butterworth fumbled his chin in perplexity, to the great enjoyment of his guests, and finally surrendered,

“I know it, but I can’t recall it. The Professor will have to come to the rescue again.”

Professor Quell stroked his short, stubby beard with thoughtful deliberation and was silent for some moments before he said,

“The fifth cause is phosphorescence by insolation, or exposure to the sun.”

“An example, please,” challenged the Surrogate playfully.

In a class-room voice the Professor continued,

“A large number of organic substances, after being exposed to the action of the solar light, or of the diffused light of the atmosphere, emit in darkness a phosphorescence, such as dry paper, silk, cane-sugar, milk-sugar, amber, and the teeth.”

“Bravo!” applauded Mr. Butterworth. “Do you know I love chemistry and have always regretted I did not turn to it instead of the law. There’s nothing prosaic in chemistry, no ruts, no routine, no beaten path of precedent. Every chemist is an explorer. But, Professor, I observe you’ve left out one of the most universal phosphorescent effects under the fifth cause.”

“I did not assume to be exhaustive,” hastily obtruded the Professor.

“But what one does our host refer to?” rallied Mr. Riggsley.

“I referred to snow!” slowly replied Mr. Butterworth, in a loud voice.

Professor Quell bent a mathematical stare upon the speaker and settled back in his chair. The intensity of his gaze would have been commented upon had not the white-haired butler at this juncture thrown the party into confusion by crying out,

“Oh, come to the windows at once, gentlemen, I beg of you! Look! look!”

With a muttered exclamation Mr. Butterworth pushed back his chair and the others quickly followed his example and rushed to the windows.

“What is it? Make room for the court! I’ll hand down an opinion. Bless my soul!” exploded the Surrogate, backing from the window and blinking rapidly and then flattening his nose against the pane.

A volley of ejaculations and excited queries radiated from the clustered heads as the guests stared forth incredulously into the night. Then the butler turned off the lights so that the men might see the better. What astonished and filled the gazers with wonder was the figure of a gigantic ostrich just beneath the windows and apparently in pursuit of a huge human skeleton. Farther away, sharply outlined in black against the soft gray whiteness of the snow, was the startling interrogation, “Are we all insane?” And what caused new conjecture was the boldly printed direction, “Read Quell on ‘Winter Phenomena.’ ”

“What kind of a joke is this?” exclaimed Mr. Riggsley, his heart sinking as he feared the dinner had been planned for a wide-reaching purpose.

“Bless me! An ostrich!” babbled the Surrogate, rubbing his eyes.

“Great Scott!” bawled a young assistant corporation counsel from the end window. “Come down here. Here’s an elephant!”

“There’s an alligator chasing a rabbit!” shouted a third.

“Can it be possible!” stuttered the Surrogate. “Upon my soul, I believe this is a trick!”

“You’re more suspicious than poor Dr. Pinkey was,” laughed Mr. Butterworth, switching on the lights. “He believed he was the victim. Why, where’s Professor Quell?”

A hasty scrutiny of the room failed to discover that learned gentleman.

“Now that’s too bad — he’s taken fright and run away. As I got my hint from his book on ‘Winter Phenomena’ it’s no more than right he should be here to take the credit.”

“What does this mean, Mr. Butterworth?” hoarsely demanded Mr. Riggsley, who was utterly dumfounded by the disappearance of his client.

“Professor Quell’s work informs us how the action of sunlight on the snow creates a phosphorescence,” blandly replied Mr. Butterworth. “Snow is one of the substances that becomes phosphorescent in darkness after insolation, or exposure to the solar light. Professor Quell suggests that one take a blanket and spread it on the snow during a sunshiny day and then remove it at sundown. The square of snow thus shut off from the solar light will retain its shape accurately at night, having no phosphorescence, and will show up in sharp contrast with the surrounding phosphorescent areas. Should you approach the dark square it will not disappear. It would be the same as if you were gazing at a black shadow. You could make accurate measurements of it. But, of course, should you approach with a lighted lantern it would vanish and you’d find nothing but white snow.”

“This foolery leads to what, sir?” harshly demanded Mr. Riggsley, pale with passion as he began to believe he had been thoroughly duped.

“It gives a rational explanation of Dr. Pinkey’s irrational testimony,” quietly answered Mr. Butterworth. “It explains how he saw things in the snow, yet found the surface unmarred when he investigated. In short, someone, desirous of impeaching his testimony in some instance like the Asher will-contest, took advantage of the servants’ absence from the mansion, plus Mr. Asher’s absence, and placed figures, probably made of cardboard or paper, on the snow beneath the smoking-room windows. The figures were removed before anyone returned home. Then, sir, as evening advanced and the great snow areas responded with the ghostly light stored up in their cold bosoms during the day, the patches covered by the cardboard or paper had no phosphorescence to throw off, and as result the doctor saw things and even reached the point of condemning his own intellect.”

“Is it possible!” ejaculated the Surrogate.

“Not only possible, but deplorable that Professor Quell should use his great talent in a miserable attempt to defraud a girl!” emphatically denounced the old lawyer. “What’s more, I have located the telephone-operator and stableman. By them I can prove Quell telephoned from the junction in person, suggesting the tandem hitch and the jaunting-car; that he brought the drum to Mr. Asher, and that it was Quell who wrote the letter informing the old man his niece was at death’s door in the hospital. He used a dilute solution of chloride of cobalt, which was invisible when dry and in a normal temperature. He bribed the stableman, who carried the mail, to heat the letter in the oven so that it would be perfectly legible when presented to Mr. Asher. By the time the housekeeper reached the room it had faded out again.”

“This is monstrous—” weakly began Mr. Riggsley.

“It is monstrous, and I am pleased to state that Mr. Riggsley believed his cause an honest one,” announced Mr. Butterworth. “But let us take the lanterns and make the test Dr. Pinkey did. He must be thoroughly exonerated from his self-accusation and be put right with the public.”

“The court finds that the evidence of Dr. Pinkey is wholly reliable, and must stand. The clerk will furnish the gentleman of the press with a statement of some interest, given out in justice to Dr. Pinkey. Have you any further evidence to offer, Mr. Riggsley?”

“None, your honor,” sadly replied Mr. Riggsley.

“Then the court rules that the objections are not substantiated by facts and are hereby overruled, and that the will of Reuben N. Asher is duly admitted to probate. Call the calendar, Mr. Clerk.”